Carry On
by Booster1
Summary: A look at what other people were doing at the end of “Never Fade Away”. Spoilers galore for the finale of Angel.


Title : Carry On  
Author : Booster  
Rating : PG-13  
Summary : A look at what other people were doing at the end of "Never Fade Away". Spoilers galore for the finale of Angel.  
Disclaimer : Angel and the gang belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.  
Setting : Set during the last few seconds of "Never Fade Away".  
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, Fanfiction.com; If anyone else wants it, just email and ask.  
Feedback: Yes, please.

Now we're all together  
Let's sing a fighting song  
One hundred thousand riders  
We can't all be wrong  
Comin' at us no stopping  
Always carry on  
  
Carry on my sons forever  
Carry on when I am gone  
Carry on when the day is long  
Forever carry on  
For as long as we're together  
Then forever carry on__

Manowar - Carry On

_"Well, personally, I wanna slay the Dragon."_

_The cold rain poured down on Angel's body, soaking him to the bone, as he stepped forward towards the oncoming hordes. Another crack of thunder and lightning punctuated the air, as the pounding rhythm of the rain on the ground around them continued._

_Funny how it all came down to this in the end: another fight in another back alley in LA. One last look back at the friends and allies gathered behind him. One last thought of those not present._

* * *

**On a highway out of ****Los Angeles****:**

Lorne knew it was there, even if he couldn't see it yet.

His hands itched, as he drove his car through the pouring rain, out of and forever away from Los Angeles. There was red there. Blood there. He no longer had the urge to sing, to follow along with the melody that came from the car stereo. He'd known somehow after Angel's request, that it would break something inside him. But he'd done it anyway.

His last perfect day. Ha!

One last singing and performing for the crowd, trying desperately to get back some hope, some meaning to this now finished stage of his life. Maybe one day in the future (far, far away) he'd find himself on a stage again, laughing and joking, telling tales of Angel and Cordy and Wesley and Gunn and her.

But not now, not him, and not a man with blood on his hands.

He carried on driving into the black and stormy night, not caring anymore about what was behind him. Right now he had one last task to perform for Angel and the gang. They hadn't asked it of him, which was one reason for him doing this self-appointed penance.

After all, someone had to tell the Burkles that Fred was dead.

* * *

**The remains of Wolfram & Hart's LA headquarters:**

Eve stood at the window and looked out over the Los Angeles nightscape. She could see all the tiny lights beneath her, some of them slowly winking out one by one as the night drew on. Behind her part of the ceiling cracked and fell onto the office floor.

Beneath her feet, the carpet rumbled and shook as the building continued to collapse around her. Idly Eve considered getting out of the building, but where would she go? What would she do? Without Lindsey, there was no real reason to do anything. She'd given up her mortality for him, given herself a limited lifespan. Well, looked like it was going to be even more limited than she'd ever expected.

The floor creaked again, and then the entire floor collapsed underneath her. Eve was sent tumbling, rolling and falling through the remains of the building. Eventually her plummet through the tons of concrete and metal finished, and she found herself trapped in a small cramped area, buried deep inside the rubble.

She would have laughed if she had enough breath left. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom in this inadvertent crawlspace, and she looked around. How nice – she had somebody's body for company in her last moments.

Eve's eyes narrowed. That was no ordinary body – it was Hamilton's. Hamilton with his neck broken. Hamilton with blood running from his throat.

And most importantly, her fucking contract in his pocket.

* * *

**An international phone call:**

"Willow? You do know it's 8am here? Wait… it must be almost 11 where you are…"

"Yes, Giles, I am aware of that, yes. Something weird's just happened to the Council accounts."

"The accounts? What are you talking about? There's hardly anything left in them now."

"Wolfram & Hart just deposited four hundred and sixty seven million dollars into our accounts. From LA banks."

"Dear Lord, that's… that's incredible. What the hell is Angel up to now?"

"My thoughts exactly. I'm kicking the Slayers undercover in LA into action, as soon as I reach Buffy."

* * *

**On a rooftop overlooking the collapsing Wolfram & Hart building:**

Connor stood under an overhanging parapet and squinted through the rain into the distance. Looked like the penthouse and rooftop had fallen fully into the rest of the building now, which in turn seemed to be on a general downwards movement. Served it right.

His memories still weren't fully clear, but in general he knew Wolfram & Hart was bad, and deserved whatever came their way. He'd always been fond of the concept of karma, and 'what comes around, goes around'. This was one of the more graphic examples that he'd ever heard of, mind you.

He wasn't quite sure what he should do now. All three of his dads had not wanted him to do anything related to sports, though his memories told him he'd always been good at basketball until he'd given it up a year back to concentrate on his schoolwork. He certainly didn't want anything to do with magic – that never ended well in any of his memories.

Maybe for once, he should choose for himself. His mouth quirked upwards as he considered all the acting he'd done recently, trying not to let his puzzlement and confusion show. That was something of his very own. Not given, not inherited and not implanted in his memories.

Perhaps he should look into Drama classes tomorrow…

* * *

**Trotting happily down an LA street:**

Harmony marched cheerfully along the street, splashing through the puddles and swinging her pink handbag with her reference tucked away safely and dryly inside it. One thing about growing up in Sunnydale – you certainly learned to pay attention to those instincts that told you to leave the area. Well, apart from that one time at Graduation of course.

She slowed down, as the rain pounded down even harder than before, and took refuge in a nearby doorway. God, here she was, happier than for a long time, and the universe had to choose now to rain on her. Totally unfair! What she'd taken for a pile of yucky rags in the far corner snored, and rolled over. Oh goodie! Snack food!

It had been a long time since she'd had human blood, after all. She licked her lips and shifted into game face. And didn't move a step towards the vagrant.

Maybe, just maybe she should continue with the animal blood – that otter blood was certainly rather yummy with enough marshmallows. She'd taken a long time to get used to it, but it was kinda nice and soothing. Plus, not having to bother with all that tiresome hunting for victims had let her grow some particularly good fingernails.

She sighed, and shifted back to human guise.

What the hell? There was always tomorrow to grab someone to bite.

* * *

_He doubted somehow he'd ever fully know just what difference they'd made in the world, but that was fine. Everyone had their own fights to battle one by one, after all. _

_"Let's go to work," said Angel, and swung his sword._

Never the end.


End file.
